Jocasta shifted uncomfortably as a half dozen dwarves bustled out of the shopfront. Most were stripped to the waist wearing leather breeches and barring the many slight discolorations that came with a life of minor burns in a smithy. Though one of them wore a short jerkin of polished leather. All of them were armed though it seemed habitual rather than in response to being called out front. Several of them had quite impressive tattoos in striking geometric designs though whether this was art or script Jocasta didn’t know. There were very few extant examples of dwarf writing, mostly from inscriptions on old monuments and while certain mages certainly possessed some knowledge of the language they kept it to themselves.

 

A traveler stepped in through the door and froze when he found himself confronted by a crowd of obviously excited, if not necessarily hostile, dwarves. He held up both palms and stepped out of the store and hurried off.

 

“They aren’t going to try to kill us are they?” Jocasta asked, “I’m just saying that would make five different species that have tried to kill me today.”  Beren looked back over his shoulder.

 

“Five?” he asked in surprise.

 

“Humans, troll, giant spider, dark elf, demon…” she trailed off.

 

“You’re right, dwarves would make six,” she corrected apologetically.